


Better than Farmington

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hannibal Heyes plan is well known to be a piece of pure genius when pulled off. Must be why Heyes refers to them as foolproof but much to his chagrin he might find out, they are sometimes not as foolproof as he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than Farmington

Heyes stood with his face tipped up to the sharp, blue sky the warm sunshine basking him and the meadow spreading out around him. There were hints of green emerging from the brittle brown grass, even an errant wildflower here and there. Wind ruffled his shirt, pushing his hair back, and he heard the trilling of a red bird, “Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.” A large dimpled smile arose on his face until finally, with a contented sigh, he opened his eyes to search out his cousin and found him lounging against the base of a pine tree. Walking over, he sank down, the carpet of brown needles sliding noiselessly under him.

“Thought you might’ve taken root out there.”

“Nope, just thinking.”

“You ready to share it with me?”

“Almost,” Heyes’ big smile flashed out, “you want to go fishing?”

“Sounds great.” Kid, exclaimed, standing up and extending a hand.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Setting his blue-speckled plate down, Heyes slipped off the stump he’d been occupying by the bonfire. Reclining in the grass, he propped himself up on an elbow. His dark eyes flitted from one gang member to the next as they sat chatting around the fish fry, passing a whiskey bottle between them. He shook his head; this odd assortment surrounding him was his family, or as close as he and Kid had to a family. 

Seeing a look of contentment on his cousin’s face, Kid came over dropping down alongside him, offering a bottle. Heyes took it, taking a long drink, and then set it along the curve of his side. “They look happy, don’t they?”

“So do you.”

“I am.”

“You ready to tell them your newest plan?”

Heyes’ brow furrowed in thought. He took a longer drink from the nearly, finishing the bottle, “In the morning. Let’em enjoy themselves. Rogues like us don’t get many moments like this.”

“True,” Kid grinned, “This fish fry was a good idea, Heyes, been awhile since we done anything close to normal.” Kid reclined in the grass, inhaling deeply, he could feel the whiskey thrumming through him. Staring at the blanket of stars overhead it seemed to him like they were thrumming in time with the beat of the whiskey. 

As the third bottle emptied and darkness of night became complete, the men began telling stories of their takes, and their leader’s grand plans, both of which had made the Devil’s Hole Gang notorious. Somewhere during the laughing and boasting, Heyes slipped away, feeling not only at ease but proud of his accomplishments. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Hannibal Heyes’ footsteps echoed loudly across the sleeping Devil’s Hole before he dropped into his favorite chair and crossed his booted feet atop the porch railing. A steaming cup of coffee balanced on his thigh as he watched the sunrise. 

A sleep-tousled Kid Curry emerged from the cabin. Pausing, he shielded his eyes from the bright sun hanging above the mountain’s rim with the empty coffee cup he was carrying. “Suppose you didn’t have the courtesy to leave me any?” 

Holding out the empty pot, Heyes said, “Would have been happy to share with you two hours ago.”

Rubbing a hand through his tangle of blonde curls, Kid thought the inside of his head was pounding like Crow war drums. “You know, Heyes, you can be a real pain in my--”

“Pull back, ain’t no reason to fly off the handle.” Heyes interrupted, dropping his feet to the freshly painted floorboards of the porch. “If your tail’s in such a knot, I’ll brew up another pot.”

“To hell, you will!” Kid barked, snagging the pot. “I don’t feel up to drinking that varnish you so glibly call coffee.”

A spectacular, mocking smile appeared on Heyes’ face, “Well, when you’re feeling more amiable, meet me down on the bunkhouse porch.”

With a grunt, Kid dragged his barely dressed, barefooted self, back inside.

Donning his trademark black hat, Heyes trotted down the steps to saunter across the yard, whistling Rose of Alabama. Coming up the bunkhouse steps, he couldn’t hear a trace of movement within. A wicked gleam came to his eye, and he flung the door open only to be hit with the rank aroma of unwashed men and dirty laundry. “Whew, this place is in dire need of an airing out,” he mumbled before cheerily hollering, “Rise, and shine, you good for nothings!” Not wishing to dodge any flying boots as he had in the past, he stayed well outside the entrance, banging the door open and closed. “Move it, boys. I’m positive the well water is colder than any of you wish to find out.” He knew they believed him because he’d gotten more than one gang member out of a bunk with a dousing. Hearing a good amount of cursing, squeaking bunk frames, and feet hitting the floor, he released the door to go drop happily onto the porch swing. Pulling out his jack knife, he set to whittling; idly watching his men emerge from the bunkhouse, careful not to make eye contact with any of them until they had finished their morning modus operandi. 

The swing dipped heavily and swayed backwards with a jolt upon Curry’s arrival. He was fully dressed, right down to the shining Colt strapped to his side. From his right hand, dangled two coffee cups, one of which he offered to Heyes. He then filled both from the pot he’d brought with him.

Taking a drink, Heyes’ nose wrinkled. “Pretty weak.”

“You’re an ingrate.”

“Gotta stop teaching you words you can use against me.”

“And arrogant.”

“See there’s another one.”

“Might as well add on conceited.”

Laughing, Heyes said, “Might as well,” taking another drink of coffee. 

Kid grinned, “This plan is pretty bodacious . . . even for you.”

“Maybe.” 

“How much are you going to tell the boys?”

“Not nearly as much as I laid out for you last night.”

Kid nodded and yawned so widely, his jaw popped. He grinned sheepishly, “Apologize. Maybe you should have explained less to me last night.”

The Devil’s Hole gang dribbled in, taking up spots around the porch. Each of them looked tired and hung-over, and clung to their coffee cups like lifelines. 

“Over the winter, I worked out a plan.” Heyes said, standing up, “Way I’ve figured it, we’ll be rolling in money.”

“You said that about that last bank heist,” Wheat immediately interjected. 

“The Billings Merchant Bank had been the depository for Duncan-Douglas Mining Company for years. How was I to know their veins had been dwindling out leading up to our visit?”

Under his breath, Wheat mumbled, “Thought that was a leader’s job.”

“They kept it from the damn papers, stockholders, hell, even their own employees.” Heyes snarled, glaring hard at Wheat.

“Seems to me, you would’ve checked with your sources,” Wheat replied, raising nodding grumbles from the outlaws surrounding him, encouraging him to raise his chin to challenge Heyes’ flinty eyes. “Fact, I’m a thinkin’---”

Heyes stepped forward, “I’m thinking you’ve harped enough already.”

“Maybe, Heyes,” he waved at the other gang members, “but before we ‘all agree--”

Kid shot up, the swing flying backwards, careening against the side of the bunkhouse, “Wheat, enough is enough!”

“I was only sayin’…,”

“We’ve heard it all before. Find yourself a seat and enjoy your coffee,” Kid stepped forward, “unless. . .” his flat, unspeaking eyes prolonged the tension, “you’re feelin’ like taking this further.”

Wheat sunk down on an overturned keg to pay close attention to the grounds he swirled in the bottom of his cup. 

“Is we gonna use dynamite?”

“Always possible, Kyle,” Heyes answered. “But, for this job, I’m hoping not.”

Kyle sighed, clasping his hands together to stare at them.

Kid shook his head. Heyes went on, “The Keystone Mining Company has been running a regular route into Sheridan and back. Kid and I scouted it all out and decided it’s better to stop the train than to hit the bank. Problem is; Keystone employs a pair of detectives to ride the rails.”

Kid nodded, “Yeah, they got a pair of ‘em riding like passengers, ‘cepting they do patrols on the hour.”

“To avoid their security becoming involved during the robbery, Wheat and Kid will be on the train to subdue them before it reaches the rest of us.” Heyes rubbed his hands together, “Making it easy for us to clean out the safe, sending them merrily on their way.”

The gang nodded.

“Think of all that gold.” Kyle beamed. 

“Yeah, but how do ya know it’ll be the one with the gold?” Lobo asked.

“That is the beauty of the plan,” Heyes looked at his men hoping for eager adoration, but he all he saw were eyes overflowing with painful headaches. “We’re going to rob each train coming out of Keystone until we hit the jackpot.”

“What?” Several of the men yelped at once. 

“That’s crazier than I would’ve even given you credit for,” Wheat cried, bolting his feet.

Heyes smiled, he had their attention now. “We’re guaranteed to hit pay dirt. It’s foolproof.”

Kid shook his head again. Seeing him do so, Heyes’ eyes narrowed, “See, there is no way Keystone will figure any gang would hit’ em that many times in a row. So, they are going to send out their lode at some point. Hell, I’ve got it figured, they have to send it to the bank before they can do payroll and fill the company stores. So we’ll just keep hitting them till…,” he broke off in a large dimpled grin, “Like I said, foolproof.”

The men looked to each other, than to Kid, and, as if on cue, Kid sat down, “You heard Heyes. Why ya’ll looking at me?”

“’Cause he listens to you,” Lobo said.

Preacher took a drink, mumbling, “Sometimes, he does.” 

“Now, boys,” Heyes spoke out in a honey-coated voice. 

“Don’t now boys us,” Hank snapped. “Wasn’t it the Farmington robbery, you called fool proof, too?”

There was a chorus of nodding. 

Crossing his arms, Heyes leaned into a porch post, “What was wrong with that? We pulled in $18,000.”

Kyle looked up, started to speak, and swallowed it down, but Heyes saw him, “What?”

“Well, Heyes, you got shot on that robbery.”

He grimaced, “It was by the posse. That was outside my plan.”

Hank stood, “My horse broke its leg.” 

Heyes’ expression solidified into his poker mask. 

“I caught fever from forging that river,” Kane said. 

“Yeah, my packs floated away in that same river and I lost my best pipe,” John whined.

Merkle nodded, “Wet all my loads, wasn’t able to fire a shot for rest of the run. Still can’t believe I didn’t get shot.” 

Not wishing to be left out on the round of complaining, Kyle chimed in, “And, I didn’t get to blow up nothing, neither. “ 

Releasing a sigh that sounded old and tired like a piece of paper fluttering down an alley, Heyes said, “Did we get in and out of the bank without a hitch?”

A grumbled agreement went round.

“Made it back to the Hole, all of us, and the loot to boot.”

A bit more affirmative chorus rose up, but as it did, Preacher slowly stood, his deep, dark eyes boring into Heyes’, “Son, I’m not so sure that makes the Farmington Robbery foolproof as you claim. The guys are right; we had a lot of problems pop their heads up on that ride. Kind of gives me an itch to hear you call another plan foolproof.” 

“Kind of find myself agreein’ with ‘em, Heyes.” 

Heyes whipped about flashing Kid glare of loathing and, with a snort, turned back to the others. “Well, ain’t nothing like that going to happen this time. I’ve worked on this plan all winter. I know where to hit, where to camp out in between, and have several routes of escape from each stop. This one is foolproof.”

“We’ll see,” Wheat gruffed. 

“Wheat.” The word slipped from Heyes like a sigh but in less than a heartbeat, his chin shot out, and through gritted teeth he got out, “Y’all don’t want to follow me. Don’t want your pockets over-flowing with gold, than pack up, and ride your sorry asses out of here.”

Waving his hands palms down at Heyes, Wheat cooed, “Now Heyes ain’t no reason to get all testy. Me and the boys is just voicing some concerns, is all.”

“I’ll get as testy as I want. I’m the leader of the Devil’s Hole and I have come up with a damn fine plan. So, if any of you don’t like it . . .” Heyes’ eyes were brimming with white hot fire as he looked around, “. . . then don’t be thinking I’ll be mourning your leaving.” Stepping backwards off the porch, he shook his head, passing out one final bitter glare, which included even Kid Curry, and crossing one leg over the other, he spun, striding off cussing and kicking at anything in his way.

Watching him go, the men remained silent listening intently for the shuddering slam of Heyes’ cabin door and hearing it, they all breathed a sigh of relief. 

“What in Sam Hill has him so riled?” Wheat asked.

Picking up the cups and empty coffee pot with his left hand, Kid Curry said, “Thought he made that pretty clear.”

During all of this, Kyle had kept his seat and, after Heyes’ outburst, he seemed to be hunching even closer to the ground. Licking his lips, he released a timid smile, “But, Kid, he did catch a bullet on his last foolproof plan.”

Kid stepped off the porch without replying. After only a few steps, he turned back to face the gang members. “You’re right, Kyle, he did, but none of you did. Heyes, he counts that a lot higher in his tally book. Y’all should know, he thinks of y’all first.”

Several dismal smiles accompanied by embarrassed grumbles arose. 

“You heard him. Whoever plans to ride with Heyes be saddled down by the corral at first light.” The fingertips of Kid’s right hovered casually near his gun, “And those of you who ain’t going, well, I need to be seeing you ride out today!” His eyes held no warmth as they switched steadily from one gang member to the next only moving on when the man had looked away. Walking on up to the cabin, he paused on the footbridge. Hearing no rebuttal chatter, he moved on taking the cabin steps two at a time. 

“How’d it go?”

Setting the dishes on the table next to a pile of train schedules and maps that Heyes was once more purveying, Kid replied. “I’d say they’ll all be down by the corral in the morning.”

“Oh, they’ll be there,” Heyes didn’t look up, “because, they’re all greedy, and they know I’m the best chance they have at a solid payday.”

Kid cleared his throat, “Sometimes, I kind of wonder what they’d think. . .,” his tone was light like he was joshing but his words were heavy with meaning, “if they knew you could get them just as much without all your tricky, grand schemes.” 

Heyes froze, his dark eyes slowly rising to his partner.

“We both know it’s nothing more than a contest to you.” Kid shook his head, passing his cousin a look of faint of amusement. “Yup, a challenge and, of course, you enjoy the fame; we mustn’t forget fame.”

Heyes pursed his lips, the bridge of his nose wrinkling up. “Maybe so.”

“Ain’t no maybe to it.”

“Either way,” Heyes began folding the maps, “I’m going to trust you won’t ever let them in on that bit of insight.”

Kid clinched his fists at his side, “Have you ever thought, for one minute, the rest of us, me included, wouldn’t mind doing a robbery the easy route sometime?”

Slipping the maps, train tables, and his notes into a leather satchel, Heyes walked off toward his room.

“Are you going to answer me?”

“The easy route, huh?” Heyes turned in his bedroom doorway, leaning on one outstretched arm. “If you haven’t noticed, the gangs who take the easy route are the ones who always get caught. This here is the Devil’s Hole Gang and we’re a step above them other gangs. Our robberies prove it.”

Kid’s mouthed twitched to the side, snatching a box of cartridges off the top of the liquor cupboard. He headed for the back door. “I’m going to practice.”

“Do what you like. But I expect you to be, down at that corral, with me in the morning, ready to ride out.”

“You know, I will.” Kid pulled off his gloves, shoving them in his belt. “But, somehow you have stepped on all the wrong nerves with me today.” He frowned, his nose scrunching up, even as he snorted like a bull. “And, I plan on spending rest of this day, shooting and hanging out with the guys.”

Heyes smiled weakly, his eyebrows arching up. “Well, have a good day, Kid.”

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Heyes, Wheat, and Kid kept their guns trained on the chuffing, stopped train and its operators as the rest of the gang urged their horses up into the scrub line above the track bed. Hank and Kane slid from their horses, jerking their rifles from their saddle boots. They braced themselves against a pair of stunted tree trunks as the sun struck the barrels, causing them to gleam brightly. 

Seeing them, Heyes holstered his Schofield and tipped his hat with a grin. “Suppose I don’t need to carry on about what crack shots those men are? Figure y’all know that. Up to now, all has gone as it should, not a soul injured. . .” His sparkling eyes searched the faces before him, “How about we keep it that way?”

The disgruntled men, holding up their hands, nodded.

Smiles, as bright as the gleaming rifle barrels covering them, flashed from Heyes, Kid, and Wheat. 

“When asked, you tell’ em you were held up by Kid Curry and the Devil’s Hole Gang,” Heyes bragged, flipping a gold double-eagle on the ground at the engineer’s feet, “then tell them the drinks are on the house, courtesy of Hannibal Heyes.”

The trainmen’s expressions changed to looks of awe, their beady eyes working at remembering details of the notorious men before them. Kid grunted pulling his hat lower. Wheat, on the other, swelled up, pushing his hat back. Heyes tossed the operators a salute and spun away, his two lieutenants galloping off right behind him. 

The Devil’s Hold Gang rode hard and fast up into the surrounding mountain range, until the train appeared as no more than a child’s toy below them. Kid rode in front of Heyes, cutting him off and forcing him to pull his horse to a halt. “Why’d you go and do that?”

“Do what?”

“Announce who we are,” he said, knocking his horse solidly into Heyes’ horse wanting very much to knock his cousin to the ground, “this ain’t some theatre production where you make known the actors.”

“I kinda liked it, Kid,” Wheat said, a wolfish smile covering his face. 

Heyes tipped his hat back, “We’re famous; so, why not?”

“Same reason not to do it, I’d say.”

“Ah Kid, we might as well stand up with pride for our crimes, especially when a plan goes so well. ‘Sides why not let those men have bragging rights on who held them up?”

“Seems foolish.”

“You’re just being shy.”

Kid snorted. 

“All right, then think how much better those detectives you and Wheat tied up are going to feel knowing they were captured by none other than the Devil’s Hole Gang, not just some hard tack group.”

“Suppose so.”

“Suppose right,” Heyes steered his horse around Kid’s sorrel, “if we’re going through all the pains to carry off a safe, foolproof robberies then the least we can do is assuage our victims’ wounded pride.”

A warm laugh erupted from Kid, “Heyes, your silver tongue has convinced me again. ‘Course, I’m betting you could convince me robbing Lucifer himself would be a good idea, too. I don’t know why I bother questioning you.”

“Glad you do,” Heyes played out a devilish grin, “keeps me on my toes. Let’s get to the camp spot, split the take, and make ready for the next train.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Wheat took off his hat, scratching at his thick mat of hair, “What I don’t get is . . . you, me, and Kid know what the detectives look like.”

Heyes nodded.

“If’n you and Kyle is riding this next train. . .”

Heyes nodded again, wishing Wheat would get to his point. 

“Well, those detectives will know you two after this next job, and if’n we have to rob another one…” Wheat placed his hat back on his head. “Well, I ain’t as good as figuring plans’ as you like to point out. But I sure as hell can see that you two can’t get back on again. With that said, we ain’t got anyone else who will know what Keystone hired guns looks like.” 

“Is that all?” Heyes smirked.

Wheat stiffened as if Heyes had struck him, and glanced around to see if anyone else was listening. There was only Kid, and there was nothing new about him hearing everything Heyes said. 

“Told you I had this plan figured out. When Kyle and I hit town, I’m going to get us all dandified up before we set foot on the train.”

Wheat rubbed at his chin, his eyes narrowing down. 

Kid started laughing, “I get it. If a third ride is needed, not even Kyle’s own mother is going to recognize him in his normal attire after being all spruced up.”

“Exactly. ‘Sides, I figure them detectives are going to be nervous of anyone wearing a gun. So, Kyle and I will wear shoulder holsters under our jackets. Figure they’ll skim right past the pair of us polished-up city folk as they do their hourly security walk.”

Batting his eyes like an owl in a hailstorm, Wheat looked from Heyes to Kid, “I suppose that’ll work.”

Heyes and Kid looked at each other, busted out laughing, with Heyes finally gasping, “Glad you approve, Wheat, glad you approve.” 

________________________________________________

 

“Kyle, what’s wrong?” Heyes whispered.

“This here collar is givin’ me a rash, I knows it is,” Kyle muttered, tugging at the stiff, paper collar encircling his neck.

“I doubt it,” Heyes snorted, returning his attention to his book, 

Kyle sat still, looking out the window. Slowly, he began once more fidgeting, bumping into Heyes hard enough to make him fumble his book.

Heyes’ shut his book, his face turning crimson, he leaned in close to Kyle, “I’m telling you right now, break off tearing at that collar and fidgeting around, I don’t care if you have to sit on your hands to do it. You keep drawing attention to us.”

“But I itch all over.”

“Who’d think being clean would make you uncomfortable?”

“I would.” Kyle said firmly, “I ain’t used to it.”

Heyes’ eyes widened, he clamped a hand over his mouth, what little laughter escaped wound up sounding like a choked cough.

“You alright, Heyes?”

“I’m fine, just fine,” Giving up on his book; he shoved it in his jacket pocket. “Come on, let’s go locate them detectives.”

“Sounds good, sooner we’re done, sooner I can get back into my own clothes.” 

Moving from one car to another, Heyes finally elbowed Kyle, and they took a seat. 

“Which one?”

“The one with the red beard and the no-account-looking gent next to him.”

Pulling some rawhide ties from his pocket, Kyle asked, “When?”

“When we feel the train start to slow.”

“What if it’s stopping to get water or freight?”

“Nope, I’ve studied its itinerary, its route.” Heyes said, switching out itinerary before Kyle could question him.

Kyle beamed at his leader. “I done rode with a lot of men and Heyes, you’s the only one, who’s ever really known, what they’s doin’.”

“That’s because I love it when a plan comes together.” Feeling a shudder run through the train, Heyes frowned, and pulled out his watch. “They’re early,” his frown deepened.

“Do we?” Kyle waggled the ties.

“Might as well.” Rising, they walked casually up the aisle, expertly shifting their weight to keep from falling as the train began decelerating rapidly. 

Voices filled with fear and curiosity rose around them, the passengers shifting in their seats like agitated June bugs. 

The bearded redhead stood up, and using a take-charge voice, said, “Take it easy folks, I’m sure it is nothing to fret over.” Turning an iron-hard stare on Heyes and, consequently, Kyle, he ordered, “Gentlemen, take a seat.”

Right then, the train jerked, the wheels squealing in protest against the brakes. Using the opportunity, Heyes floundered forward, pulling his shoulder gun. As he slammed into the detective, the man’s eyes bulged upon feeling cold steel pressed up under his arm. 

“Shhh,” Heyes whispered. Beads of sweat appeared along the bridge of the detective’s nose. 

“What’s your name?” Heyes smiled, giving him an encouraging wink, working the gun in snugger.

“Sean.” The man swallowed. “Sean Campbell.”

“Tell your partner we should all go out on the deck to investigate what is happening.”

They stood eye to eye, and Heyes clearly saw Sean’s jaw tighten, firming up.

“You surely aren’t considering being heroic,” Heyes said perfectly calmly, jabbing the gun deep enough to bring forth a grunt. “How could I miss from here? Probably blow a section clear out of your heart. I’d most definitely hit a lung. Don’t sound like a very heroic way to die, if you ask me.” 

The defiance faded, more perspiration appearing on Sean’s face. 

“Just do as I asked.”

“Hey Brody, these gentlemen have a fine idea, here.”

The black-suited man with overly greased hair and pockmarked skin rose to his feet, his hand wavering toward his own hideout holster.

Seeing this, Heyes dug the barrel deeper into the soft flesh under Sean’s arm.

Detective Sean Campbell gulped like a dry hole sucking down water, “No need for that, Brody, let’s just step out on the deck and see what’s going on.” 

Indecision swam in Brody’s narrow-set eyes when Kyle peeked around the two men blocking him, “Figure if’n there’s something on the track, engineer’s gonna need some help. We two ain’t got no ladies or family with us and we’d be proud to bend a shoulder.”

Brody openly stared at Kyle. Normally, people didn’t see Kyle’s puerile, accommodating innocence but it was shining fully, right now. Maybe because it wasn’t buried beneath a month’s worth of road dust. One way or another, Brody saw it, and believed every word from the outlaw’s mouth. Nodding, he replied, “Be right nice to have assistance. Come on, Sean, stop holding those gents up and let’s go see what has brought us to a halt.” 

Out on the deck, Kyle sprang into action, his Colt leaping into his hand almost as quickly as the roguish smile to his face. “Reach high, gents.”

Sean and Brody both did as told. Taking the ties, Heyes secured them to the deck railing and finished insulting them by forcing gags into their mouths. Standing, he straightened his suit, tucked Brody’s Colt in his back waistband, and handed Sean’s weapon to Kyle, who promptly stuffed it in his jacket pocket. 

“Whoo wee, wait till the boys see’s how smoothly we caught up these hired guns.” 

Hopping down from the train, the pair of them headed for the mail car, which was two cars up behind the tinder. 

 

“Where do you think you two are going?”

They both froze at the question posed by the unfamiliar voice. Slowly, they looked over their shoulders to find a flat-nosed, bulky man in a blue kepi holding a sawed off shotgun on them. 

“Uh, Hey---”

Heyes cut in before Kyle could get his name out, “Not a good time for questions.”

“But he ain’t one of---”

Overriding him again, Heyes growled, “Hush up, William, let’s see what the man wants.”

Kyle frowned, watching his leader tentatively turn around, then it all dawned on him, and he swallowed hard. 

“I want you two to get back on the train,” the man said with a wicked smile, “Unless you’d like to see what a full load of buckshot will do up close?”

“Oh, I already have a good idea,” Heyes replied, shoving Kyle toward the stairs of the nearest passenger car. “Let’s get back on the train, William.” 

“Hold up.” 

Heyes gritted his teeth, figuring the shotgun holder just recognized him. 

“You,” he waved the barrel toward Kyle, “drop the Colt.” 

Kyle looked at his own pistol he still held and, frowning, dropped it to the gravel train bed. 

“Betting you got one, too. Pull it out real easy and drop it.” The wicked smile appeared again, brighter this time. “Unless you’re tired of living, ‘cause I don’t mind dropping both of you right here.” 

Heyes lifted a short barrel Remington from his hideout holster, tossing it to the ground. 

“Why ’re you two off the train anyhow?” The shotgun welder asked, moving closer. 

“Just curious, is all,” Heyes replied, watching the double barrels looming ever closer. He found himself thinking, ‘if he fires now there will be spots of sunlight shining clear through me.’ 

“You look familiar.” The flat-nosed man frowned, resembling a bulldog. 

“Been told that a time or two, guess I got one of them faces. Should we get on board now?”

The man stared a moment more and then nodded his head toward the car. Heyes and Kyle leapt up the steps onto the empty deck and ducked inside quicker than whip snakes sidling from danger. Heyes, at least, felt pleased they had made it one car past the detectives he’d detained before being stopped. 

When they entered the passenger car, all eyes turned toward them. A decent-looking, well-dressed woman clutching two children to her, asked, “What’s happening?”

Heyes released his most charismatic smile, “Appears we all bought tickets on the wrong train; this one’s being held up.” He shrugged, dropping into an empty seat with Kyle following suit. 

It didn’t take long for their fellow passengers to return to peering out the windows and, when they did, Kyle leaned in, whispering, “Who d’ ya think they are?”

“That was Plugnose Kelly who invited us to get back on. Used to ride with the Jim Miller gang, not sure if he still is or not.”

Kyle nodded. 

Pulling his black hat down low, Heyes kept an eye on the activity outside and, seeing men running from the train at breakneck speeds, the blood drained from his face. Leaping to his feet, he cried out, “Hit the floor!” 

The passengers turned dismayed looks on him and Kyle even as they crouched down. It was Kyle who got their attention when he hollered, “Whoo wee, dynamite – Fire In The Hole!!”

All of them flopped to the floor like so many fish out of water, landing just as a blast from the mail car rocked the entire train. Pieces of metal shrapnel pounded the car like a Gatling gun and one splintered board flew down the center aisle like a javelin thrown by Hercules. It flew right over Heyes and Kyle, shattering through the window of the door behind them. 

Heyes’ face twisted, his eyes flashing dangerously, “Ignorant fools.”

“I’d say.” Kyle nodded, rising to his feet. 

Heyes stood, poking fingers into his ringing ears. The rest of the car stood much more slowly, filling the small area with grousing men, crying women, and screaming children. Heyes coldly eyed the smoking, destroyed mail car before them and the damage-riddled car he stood in. “Let’s move to the next car.” He jerked his head toward the car behind them.

“Why for?”

“When they start thinking clearly,” he motioned toward the dazed, bleeding passengers, “I don’t want any of them asking how we knew what was fixing to happen.”

Kyle nodded, looking to some of the more injured passengers. “Yuse sure right ‘bout them being fools. We always clean the nearby cars out in case we needs to use dynamite. No sense anyone being hurt this way.”

The pair of them slipped out and climbed over the splintered board tangled in the cast iron railing. Moving onto the next car’s deck, they were careful not to step on Brody and Sean; still tied up there. The two detectives appeared highly agitated, but amazingly unharmed by the board that had nearly taken their heads off. Passing them, Heyes tipped his hat. “Gents.” 

Copycatting his leader, Kyle also minced by, saying “Boys” and, as the two outlaws shut the car door after themselves, Brody and Sean shared an incredulous look.

The people inside this car appeared shaken up, but there was no damage evident. Taking advantage of their excited jabbering, Heyes and Kyle slipped quietly into a seat. Kyle nudged Heyes, pointing out the window where Plugnose Kelly and his friends were carrying off bags of gold, grinning like the fools they were. 

“There goes my plan.” 

“Awww…” Kyle continued watching them, “What about another train?”

“Nope, Keystone will double, if not triple, their guards after these yahoos.”

After a time, the outlaw leader fired a gun in the air, and the gang rode out. The train employees hollered for volunteers to assist in clearing the track. Heyes nudged Kyle to follow him.

“You think that be a good ideer?” Kyle whined. “What about them detectives?”

“Exactly,” Heyes answered, exiting the car through its rear door. Out on the deck, he swung out to the ladder to the roof and scaled it quickly. 

Kyle followed him, lying down next to his leader. “Think they’ll see us?”

“Doubt it.”

“What if they do?”

Heyes turned dark eyes on the little man and Kyle swallowed down any further questions. 

Once the train began rolling, Heyes sat up, finding better bracing as the train picked up speed. Below he could hear the passengers animatedly discussing the adventure they had just experienced. 

“How much further to our gang?” asked Kyle.

“About ten miles.”

“You think they heard the explosion?”

“Might have,” Heyes shook his head again, wishing his ears would stop ringing. 

“Heyes, do you---”

A very, audible growl cut into Kyle’s question. The look that accompanied it told Kyle, who had ridden with Hannibal Heyes for some time, that it would best to leave the man be for a while. 

The wheels were once more screaming, the train rapidly slowing. Heyes climbed down the ladder, noting where members of his gang were standing even as he leapt to the ground. Landing on his feet, he was immediately striding toward his nearest gang member who happened to be Wheat. “Where’re the horses?”

Befuddled, but unsure what to say, Wheat watched as Heyes strode right on by him toward the stand of pines he had pointed at. 

Cheerful as always, Kyle called, “Hey Wheat,” as he walked by, following Heyes to the horses. 

“Wait! Ain’t we robbing this train?”

“Already been robbed,” Kyle replied. 

Wheat looked to the train and the demolished car. Lobo caught his eye and shrugged his shoulders. They both turned to look at their leader walking away. “But, we spent over an hour digging out those tracks, and dragging them all the way down here for the engineer to see, and have plenty of time to stop.” Wheat exclaimed pointing to the shiny rails lying horizontally across the track bed. Seeing he wasn’t getting any sort of reply from Heyes, he cupped his hands about his mouth bellowing, “KID!” 

Kid was riding the line, searching for Heyes and, hearing his name, he spun in time to see his cousin climbing into his saddle, “What the hell?”

Looking about at the other stunned gang members, he called out, “Mount up.” 

Those not on horseback, raced to their horses while the others covered them. Once clear, they all raced up into the hills after Heyes and Kyle. Catching up to Heyes, Preacher asked, “What happened?”

“John Murdock’s bunch beat us to it.”

“Uh huh,” was all Preacher got out before Kid Curry’s big sorrel came tearing up around them. Kid didn’t say a word, just looked his partner and Kyle over, and then fell in to ride alongside Heyes. 

The horses kept climbing the trail leading into the high country. Looking back at the train with its passenger scurrying out of it, Kid thought from up here they looked like a parade of ants. A smile crept across his face, “Heyes, thought this plan was foolproof?”

Heyes grunted. 

“Well?”

“How am I supposed to predict another gang beating us to the take?” Heyes replied, wrapping his reins around his saddle horn and tearing off the dress coat he felt was suffocating him. 

Kid pointed at Heyes’ empty hideout holster. “Uhm, where’s my Remington that should be sitting right there?” 

“Gone.”

“I can see that; the question was, where?”

“Why you worried about it? You don’t use it anyhow.”

“Heyes, where is my Remington which you took I’d like to remind you, without asking, from my collection?”

Heyes reached round, pulling Sean’s Colt from his waistband, shoving it toward Kid, “Here’s a replacement.”

Kid took it, shoved it in his waistband, “I already have one of those. So where’s the Remington?”

“Had it taken.”

“What?”

“I didn’t feel up to arguing with Plugnose Kelly’s scattergun.”

Having just got close enough to hear the conversation, Wheat yelped, “You got held up?”

“What of it?” Heyes answered.

“But how’s that gonna look for the rest of us, when our leader let’s his self be robbed?”

Heyes shot a snarl at Wheat, but didn’t bother to answer him as he was in no mood for his blowhard talk. 

“Hey all, you hear that? Heyes let his self get robbed. What y’all think of that?” Wheat called out to rest of the gang.

Grumbling arose immediately and, hearing it, Heyes pulled up, “They didn’t know who I was and Murphy, he never saw me. I made sure of it.”

“Is that why you two were roosting up top?” Kid asked, giving his partner a wry grin.

“No, it is not why we were up there.”

“Yeah,” Kyle put in, “we was hidin’ from that pair of detectives. 

The corners of Kid’s mouth trembled, his smile growing until he was outright laughing. In between guffaws, he got out, “Foolproof…so foolproof you wound up hidin’ on a roof.” 

“We were not hiding, we were being cautious.” 

“Whatever you say, Heyes,” Kid chuckled, kicking his horse. They continued climbing the hills to their campsite. As Heyes rode along in huffy, silent anger, he could hear his men laughing and the word foolproof passing round over and over.


End file.
